The Imp and the Wolf
by bookwyrm814
Summary: Tyrion and Sansa's wedding night, as I would have written it. Will eventually be AU. *Rated M for Lemons to come*


**This is something I'm going to start working on as well as The Hound and the Songbird. More to come soon!**

**Certain lines are taken DIRECTLY from ASOS, simply because I felt GRRM said it best in those cases. This starts when Sansa and Tyrion enter their bedchamber on their wedding night.**

**Let me know what you think! 3Bookwyrm**

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><p>"There's good arbor gold on the sideboard, dear lady wife. Why don't you pour for us?" Tyrion turned away from Sansa and climbed onto a chair as far from the bed as he could. He didn't want to think about that just yet.<p>

"Do you think that wise, my lord?" Sansa replied quietly. _She will not look me in the face_, he mused, _That should make the bedding interesting, indeed._ "Nothing was ever wiser. I am not as drunk as I seem. Don't tell our dear nephew though, he may come back for my tongue," he seen the ghost of a smile on the young girl's lips before she turned to pour them each a goblet of the arbor gold.

"Would you have me undress, my lord?" Sansa asked shyly, handing Tyrion the fine golden wine.

"My name is Tyrion, Sansa. Please call me Tyrion. Right now, all I want is more wine," he watched as she drained her goblet quickly, pressed her hand to her collarbone as she regained her bearings, and refilled her goblet. "How old are you?"

"Three-and-ten when the moon turns, if it please you, my lo- Tyrion." She waited for his approval before refilling his goblet, followed by her own._ She is but a child, yet she has the beauty of a woman grown._ Somehow she reminded him of Tysha. Maybe it was her youth, or perhaps the rosy color the wine was giving her fair skin, Tyrion did not know. What he did know was that he was becoming much more drunk than he should be. Suddenly he noticed Sansa intently staring at the scarred remains of his nose, emboldened by the wine. Her blue eyes were fogged over and dazed, but he could see the curiosity and determination beneath. Shifting uncomfortably, he breached the problem at hand, "Well, Sansa. Seeing as it is our wedding night, and my father has demanded that our marriage be consummated, why don't we... um-" he was cut short.

"Yes, I suppose it is our duty to... to..." Sansa trailed off. He realized she wasn't didn't what was required to consummate a marriage._ Damn Cersei! She should have at least prepared the poor girl!_ Tyrion looked at the floor a few moments, then returned his green-and-black gaze to Sansa, "We don't have to do this, Sansa. We can wait, if you would like. A moon's turn, a year, a season, as long as you like."

"No, there is no need to wait. What must be done, must be done." She stared at him now with determination in her eyes, the direwolf coming out in the beautiful redhead. Her delicate feet slipped out of dainty grey doeskin slippers. She unclasped her marriage cloak of Lannister colors and let it fall away from her shoulders. Her dagged sleeves brushed the floor as her fingers clumsily undid the laces of her ivory, samite and cloth-of-silver gown. He couldn't help but notice the swell of her bosom visible beneath the dove grey lace covering the deep V of her neckline. Her laces undone, she pulled the gown off, now standing hunched over in white silk small clothes, trying to maintain her modesty. Tyrion began to pull off his boots, followed by his breeches and his ornate doublet. _She is a brave girl_, Tyrion thought to himself as he tried to discreetly itch the remains of his nose. He rose and blew out all the candles in the airy bedchamber. "In the light, I may be malformed and scarred-" he started.

"No, my lord-" Sansa protested.

"Don't lie, Sansa, I am a disfigured, scarred dwarf, but..." he reached for his goblet in the dark, took a draught, and continued, "...when the lights are out, I am no worse than other men. I can be kind, Sansa..." he finished his wine, wobbling drunkenly, "I could be a good husband to you." He was answered with silence, his bride's figure still in the shadows. "Alright then. Let us do our duty. Get on the bed, Sansa." Gods, why must she be beautiful? He watched her mechanically, yet gracefully, climb into the bed and quickly cover herself with the sheets. He stumbled along after her, climbing into the over-sized bed.

**Cliffhanger!**


End file.
